Fading Away
by Hopeful Forgotten
Summary: Continuing the story Burn City. After five years, Hinata has finally found Sasuke. But is Sasuke ready to heal? And does he want to be found? And is Hinata really ready to love? HinaSasu.


_Note: This is continuing the story Burn City. If you haven't read it go read it now, haha. You can just read this but some parts won't make sense._

_Note 2. Haha. : Hey, any old reviewers from Burn City? Well, hhhiiii. *shrug* I hope you enjoy this as much as you did BC._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Don't care to. Shippuden has been ruined. ___

**Fading Away**

I was far away. Floating away, drifting, fading. I was no longer on the stone walkway, no longer gazing up into the gray sky, no longer shivering from the cold of Fall.

Instead I was in the black. The calm, peaceful black that gave nothing and asked for nothing. The back of your mind where there are no colors, no meanings, no memories.

But then colors flashed in my mind and I was pushed into the memory. It was bright, the Fall sun streaming through the window. A sweet smell flooded over me, filling my nostrils, clogging my brain. Cake. Mixed with it was the smell of fire -- burning, smoking -- and lilac. Singing, laughter, happiness.

It was five years since then. The contrast was there, was obvious in fact. The sky was gray, the sun hid behind clouds. The leaves, which were then golden and red, had already fallen to the ground and been crushed, leaving it a muddy brown. Dull droplets fell from the sky, splattering against my face. There was no cake, no laughter, no lilacs.

And sobs shook my body, vibrating through my shoulders and chest. Because I couldn't stop looking.

**--**

**HINATA**

Am I ready?

That's the real question. It's been five years since the last time I saw him. He promised me he would come and visit me. He broke his promise. He broke all his promises. But despite all my efforts, I could never make myself be mad at him.

I really miss him. I miss him like hell.

I hoped that he would come back. I prayed and craved and dreamed and, as usual, my wishes faded to dust.

For three years I hoped. For one year I was a shadow -- trying to fill the empty spot. Finally, I started looking.

I don't know when I started searching. One minute I was walking away the kisses that only reminded me of what I really wanted, and the next I was desperately searching -- everywhere for anything -- with nothing to find. I started with the modeling industry, I knew he wanted to become one again, but soon found out that he had abandoned it. So for the past year I have looked -- he is good at hiding. Too good. And finally -- _finally_ -- I found him.

So I ask one more time. Am I ready?

Not even realizing I'm doing it my hand drops onto the door and knocks. For a minute I hold my breath, and then slowly exhale, feeling both relief and disappointment. I hear nothing, no footsteps, no voices. Nothing.

And then -- "One minute." That voice -- deeper and huskier, but still familiar -- sends shivers down my spine, raising goose bumps. My breath hitches, and my heart literally stops in my chest for a half-second. I listen hard for his footsteps and -- as I knew I would -- I hear nothing.

The door opens. He's not looking at me, instead trying to fix the shirt he obviously just put on. His black hair is longer and hides his face from view, but I know immediately it's him. I open my mouth, trying to make a sound come out, anything, but nothing comes out but air. He glances up at me, curiously, and I see the same shock that I feel in his face. His hands stop straightening his shirt. And we stand there, looking at each other.

He is a few inches taller -- surprisingly. The top of my head doesn't even reach his shoulder anymore. I feel like a child next to him. His face is sharper and there is a hungry, longing look that wasn't there before. But his eyes and lips are the same -- those enchanting black holes and the full lips that just dare you to kiss them. He's more muscular, though that is to be expected, since the last time I saw him he was still lean from the months in bed.

My eyes slide down his clothes. A casual black T-shirt on top of dark fitted jeans, with red suspenders hanging from the belt loops, and scuffed converse on his feet. A young look, but it fits him somehow. But it's still strange compared to the sophisticated look I'm used to remembering and imagining him in.

"Hinata…" It is a whisper, a breath, but it holds all the emotion in the world in it. That one word says all we need, and in that moment I know he missed me just as much as I missed him.

"Hello, Sasuke." I had been practicing this moment for hours, and I concentrate on not stuttering. I hold my head high. "May I come in?" He nods, looking dazed and steps out of the way.

Proudly, afraid that I'll trip over my own feet, I march past him and stop, surveying my surroundings.

"Nice apartment." I say with polite disinterest. He shrugs. "What'd you do to afford it?" And here I truly am curious, though I keep the same tone, for I have yet to be able to find what he does for a living. He looks away and licks his lips nervously. As his tongue slips over his bottom lip I have to clench my fists, tempted to touch it.

"Random things -- here and there." He says and his voice jolts me out of my fantasies. I turn away so he can't see the blush rushing up to my cheeks and start towards the sitting room. Without invitation I drop down on his couch, crossing my legs and gazing and my purple pumps. Dressing like this makes me nervous, but I'm suddenly glad I did. It gives me an aura of power, and a new look. I can see his surprise, but I have to wonder if it's a good shock or not.

I adjust my skirt -- pulling it down, really -- and smile at him, a cold bitter smile. Again, shock registers on his face.

"Well?" My voice is sharp and he jumps, suddenly coming out of his dazed trance. And then he's gazing straight back at me, just as coolly.

"Forgive me. Would you like a drink?" He asks.

"A glass of water. And something to snack on," I say, being deliberately rude. He didn't offer something to eat and I didn't even bother to ask. With that request I turn away. I don't even hear him walk away.

I swallow slowly, blinking back the tears that suddenly flooded my eyes. I clenched and unclenched my sweaty palms.

And then he's there again, silently offering me a glass of water and a small bowl of pretzels. I stare at them with one thought in my mind: He remembered.

Pretzels were my favorite.

Slowly, I take a bite of a pretzel, savoring the taste and trying hard to hold back my tears.

"Thank you." I whisper, and I'm horrified when I hear my voice crack. I glance up at him, knowing my facade of bitter anger is broken. I expect suspicion, anger of his own, smugness, anything but the understanding in his eyes. A small smile hovers on his lips.

He sits down and the game is back on.

"You look… different." He says and I flinch. It feels like an insult.

"Yes." I say averting my gaze. We're silent for a moment. "You look different too, you know." I'm grasping for something, anything, to say. He shrugs. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" He says, looking past me at something only he can see.

"You were hard to find." I snap, the bite back in my tone. He glances at me sharply, his eyes narrowing.

"Maybe I didn't want to be found," He throws back and I'm forced to look away.

"Why?" I shudder away from the vulnerability in my voice. This isn't going as I imagined it. I keep surrendering to him. But now he looks away, his jaw clenched.

"It was for the best." He says, finally, just when I was beginning to think he wouldn't answer.

"You could have told me that." The words are supposed to be harsh, but my tone ruins it still. He stares into my eyes for a moment.

"You wouldn't have let me leave."

"S-so," Damn. "You really wanted to leave. You didn't want me anymore." I say, gulping, desperately blinking at my tears. One slips down my cheek anyway, and I scrabble to brush it away.

Why? Why, why, why? I wasn't supposed to start crying.

He hesitantly reaches a hand towards me and then stops, thinks for a moment, and then pulls it back. For a moment I see regret on his face, and then he throws up a stone wall, blocking me out completely.

"Yes." How can one word hurt me so much? And I can't even cry. Now I long for the tears to come, anything, if it will relieve the pain that rips at my chest. I hurriedly stand up, my hands brushing my skirt frantically.

"Well, um, I-if you'll excuse me I-I have an appointment I must, uh, attend to now." I stutter, cursing myself the whole time. Flickers of emotion show on his face and then he's smiling coldly, fake.

"Of course." He says and takes my elbow, leading me to his door. "Good day, Hinata."

And all I can do is stare at him before I turn away. I can't even respond.

"And, Hinata?" I stop, waiting. He hesitates but finally continues, "Please don't come back."

And with that I'm running, crystal tears streaming down my cheeks.


End file.
